European war

Coll. by
Mary Jo Davis
For M. C . Parler
Sung by Mrs. Jim Crymes
DeValls Bluff, Arkansas
June 15, 1954
Reel 193
Item 9
The European War
United States and Spain am agonna have a fight,
Just because those Germans won't treat those Belgians right,
In that war, war, in that European War.
Captain called for volunteers, I loaded up my gun,
The very frist German that I saw, I dropped my gun and run,
From that war, war, from that European War.
The last time I saw my honey, she was standing in the door,
Wringin' her hands and cryin', saying honey don't you go,
To that war, war, to that European War.
See those great big creatures, with the hightop derby's on,
With their arms around some pretty little girl, sayin' honey, is
your husband gone,
To that war, war, to that European War.
What kind of clothes do the Roughriders wear,
They wear this dark brown khaki that'll neither rip nor tear,
In that war, war, in that European War.
What kind of shoes do those Roughrider's wear,
They wear those great big hobnails, cost two an' a half a pair,
In that war, war, in that European War.
I heard a mighty scrambling, I thought I'd take a glance,
It was nothin' but an American soldier on his way to France,
To that war, war, to that European War.
I went all over Germany, I fell upon my kneed,
The very first thing I rap on, was a great big bowl of peas,
In that war, war, in that European War.
The peas they were so greasy, the meat it was so fat,
I wish I was home with my darling, my baby doll at that,
From this war, war, from this European War.

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Coll. by
Mary Jo Davis
For M. C . Parler
Sung by Mrs. Jim Crymes
DeValls Bluff, Arkansas
June 15, 1954
Reel 193
Item 9
The European War
United States and Spain am agonna have a fight,
Just because those Germans won't treat those Belgians right,
In that war, war, in that European War.
Captain called for volunteers, I loaded up my gun,
The very frist German that I saw, I dropped my gun and run,
From that war, war, from that European War.
The last time I saw my honey, she was standing in the door,
Wringin' her hands and cryin', saying honey don't you go,
To that war, war, to that European War.
See those great big creatures, with the hightop derby's on,
With their arms around some pretty little girl, sayin' honey, is
your husband gone,
To that war, war, to that European War.
What kind of clothes do the Roughriders wear,
They wear this dark brown khaki that'll neither rip nor tear,
In that war, war, in that European War.
What kind of shoes do those Roughrider's wear,
They wear those great big hobnails, cost two an' a half a pair,
In that war, war, in that European War.
I heard a mighty scrambling, I thought I'd take a glance,
It was nothin' but an American soldier on his way to France,
To that war, war, to that European War.
I went all over Germany, I fell upon my kneed,
The very first thing I rap on, was a great big bowl of peas,
In that war, war, in that European War.
The peas they were so greasy, the meat it was so fat,
I wish I was home with my darling, my baby doll at that,
From this war, war, from this European War.